


Making It Count

by thinlizzy2



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: AU: Tony Survives the Endgame Snap, Anal Sex, Come Marking, First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Minor May Parker/Happy Hogan, Post-Endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-09-23 08:35:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20337223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinlizzy2/pseuds/thinlizzy2
Summary: They sit side by side on the long wooden porch swing, their legs touching as various insects buzz down by the water.  It's impossible, physically impossible, for Tony not to wrap an arm around the kid, so he gives into temptation and is rewarded by Peter's head coming to rest on his shoulder.  This time it's Peter who breaks the ice.  "Do you know what my last thought was, before I died?"Peter and Tony decide to take the second chance they've been given. It goes pretty well.





	Making It Count

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vandoorne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vandoorne/gifts).

> Warning for underage: Peter is sixteen in this. Also, in this universe Tony and Pepper never got back together after CW.

Tony doesn't remember much about what happened after he snapped his fingers. That makes sense; he's talked to his doctors and he knows he was in shock. Not to mention his physical injuries - there were lacerations, internal bleeding, a few burns he can't explain and the bones in his arm where he wore the gauntlet had been snapped in several places. He knows what happened next; he's watched the endless coverage on the news. He knows about the heroes who came back, materializing from Dr. Strange's portals like they were stepping back from the land of the dead. He knows how they had to work endlessly for days without rest to try to contain the damage that apparently inevitably occurs when more than three billion people somehow appear out of nowhere. But Tony's first real post-snap memory, outside of pain and drug-fueled fever-dreams, is of waking up in a cool clean hospital room with Peter Parker's hand gently wrapped around his own.

He'd wondered then if he'd somehow woken up in a world that was kinder and sweeter than the one that he'd passed out in days before.

He still wonders that.

"You did it," Peter had whispered, knowing that Tony would need to know right away. "You did it, Mr. Stark. You saved us."

And Tony had felt something in his chest unclenching for the first time in five years. "And the others?"

Peter had nodded. "Everyone's okay. You saved them all."

So Peter had known, Tony realized in that moment, that the 'us' Tony had been most concerned about saving wasn't the lost Avengers. It wasn't the billions of people who'd been snapped out of existence; it wasn't even half of the entire universe. It was him and Tony. That was the 'us' that mattered most.

Peter had known. Maybe he'd always known. And he'd still held Tony's hand.

His sleep had grown restful then.

The doctors are nervous about releasing him. He does get that; it would be kind of bad in terms of their professional reputations if the guy who pretty much saved everyone in the world keeled over on the sidewalk shortly afterwards. But Tony insists, and they finally admit that there's no real medical urgency that will be served by keeping him there. They talk to Peter like he's Tony's mommy, reminding him of dosages and making him promise to call if it looks like anything at all is wrong. Tony must have been really out of it for a while if the medical staff are more comfortable trusting an underage kid than the patient himself. Or maybe it's just that Peter is pretty much sending off flare signals that he's going to make it his own personal mission to make sure Tony gets better.

Peter takes Tony's hand again to lead him out to the car, and Tony supposes it's possible that he just doesn't want him to fall down. He keeps hold of that hand once they're both safely in the backseat though, so there goes that theory. Tony's glad to see it go, to be perfectly honest. The other possibilities are far more appealing.

He starts to explain to Peter all the things that have changed for him in the last five years. He goes over the work things like the new Avengers line-up but also the personal bits. He's just beginning to get into his reclusive little wallow, his cabin in the woods and the daughter he really should tell Peter about before he meets her, but the boy cuts him off with a smile. "Mr. Stark, I know. I've been checking up on her, and May's been helping Happy babysit. Morgan's fine."

Tony laughs a bit. He knows that Happy Hogan has been taking care of Morgan. His friend started calling pretty much hourly from the time Tony was able to speak again, but in all that time he never mentioned May Parker. He really must make a point of teasing him about that endlessly. "So Aunt Hottie is all holed up in my secluded little lake house with Happy? You okay with that, kid?"

Peter grins as he shrugs. "Morgan's keeping an eye on them for me. She knows her responsibilities." His smile softens a bit. "She's a great kid, Tony. Really."

She _is_ great, and also really happy to see her dad again. May had obviously been trying to do her hair to make her look nice for Tony's homecoming, but Morgan being Morgan she'd bolted away as soon as she heard the car. So Tony wraps his arms around his daughter with a neat braid on one side of her head and loose straggling hair on the other and he breathes in her familiar scent. 

He's home, really home. Home still exists. They actually did it.

Happy pulls him into a bear hug that threatens to crush Tony's newly reset bones and maybe break a few more besides, but Tony doesn't care. He hugs his friend back just as enthusiastically and then makes a big show about looking for lipstick on his collar just for the joy of watching him blush. May rolls her eyes from the doorway, but as soon as Tony's arms are empty she steps into them. "Thank you," she whispers. "I'm so grateful."

Tony follows her gaze to where Peter is playing with Morgan, holding her high above his head as she squeals with laughter. And he thinks that he's pretty damn grateful too.

Dinner is a barbecue out by the water. They have New York strips because why the hell not? Tony's more than rich enough for good steak and if this isn't a reason to celebrate then nothing is. Tony watches, spell-bound, as a trickle of butter from the corn-on-the-cob makes its way down Peter's chin, his tongue darting out to lick it up, and he feels an ache in his chest that has nothing to do with bruising. But it's a pleasant kind of hurt for the time being, so he doesn't mind it nearly as much as he used to. Their after-dinner treat is vanilla ice cream, berries from the garden and one heck of a sunset.

Tony wonders if there's any nice way to ask May and Happy to leave. It's been great to see them, really, but even if he hasn't yet decided how to play things out he's still longing for some time alone with Peter. Luckily, his reluctant offer of a postprandial drink in the bar room prompts May to mention that it's been five years since she was in an _actual bar_ and Happy leaps at the chance to take her to one. Tony suggests a place near Stark Tower, slips Happy his Amex Black Card and the keys to his penthouse, and watches in thrilled disbelief as they joyfully head out into the night. 

He has no idea when he suddenly became this lucky, but all he can do is hope the streak continues.

Morgan is already nodding off, but she still won't go to bed without her story. Peter has to step in to assist, since apparently his Sam-I-Am voice is far superior to Tony's. So the two of them polish off _Green Eggs and Ham_ and Tony gently but firmly declines Morgan's request for an encore of _Goodnight Moon_. He switches on her nightlight, shuts her door and then he's really, truly, _finally_ alone with the boy he's been in love with since pretty much before they even met in person.

He has no fucking clue what to do next.

"How about having that drink just you and me?" Tony suggests, falling back on old seduction habits in lieu of any better ideas. "I mean, technically you're twenty-one now, right."

Peter shakes his head. "I'm still sixteen. There was an official government decision a few days after we all came back. All the blippers are legally the same age as they were when they disappeared. But I'd love a ginger ale."

This complicates things in more ways than one, but Tony pours him his soda. Peter's fingers touch his as Tony hands him the drink and they both freeze, neither one of them willing to break the contact. A long silent moment stretches on and Tony can't help but chuckle at how ridiculous they're both being. One of them has got to say something, and he figures as the only technical adult in the house this is probably on him. "So, kid. What's it going to be?"

Peter suggests they have this talk outside, so Tony leads him out to the porch. They sit side by side on the long wooden swing, their legs touching as various insects buzz down by the water. It's impossible, physically impossible, for Tony not to wrap an arm around the kid, so he gives into temptation and is rewarded by Peter's head coming to rest on his shoulder. This time it's Peter who breaks the ice. "Do you know what my last thought was, before I died?"

The words bring back the pictures, and Tony feels the panic rising. He forces it back down. Peter is alive; he's _here_ and he's _fine._ He forces the pictures out of his mind. "No. What?"

"I was confused. I mean, of course I was. But I knew I was with you. I could hear your voice, begging me to stay, and I could feel you touching me. Right here." He lifts Tony's hand to his cheek, so that he's cupping Peter's face just like he had done on the very worst day of his life five years before. "I saw the look in your eyes. It was the last thing I saw before I went. It was the last thing I thought I'd ever see. And I was happy about that, really happy, because at least I got to know for sure."

"You got to know what for sure?" Tony can't remember his own voice ever sounding so shaky before.

Peter keeps his eyes fixed on Tony's, and if he hadn't already known that this kid was brave as hell that little detail would have cleared up any doubt. "That you loved me. Just like I love you. So in spite of the fighting and Thanos, and, you know, the _dying_ and all? That was still the best day of my life." His voice suddenly falters and the older man winces as he sees the sudden fear coming flooding into the boy's expression. "I was right, wasn't I, Mr. Stark? You did love me?"

Without even thinking about it, Tony's dipping his head down and kissing Peter like it's the most natural thing in the world. And it is. Their lips find each other perfectly; Peter is warm and real and alive against him and the only thing about it that's strange is that they've haven't done this hundreds of times already. Tony's desperate to make up for lost time, running his fingers through Peter's hair, along his jaw, up and down the velvety skin at the back of his neck. More than anything, he wants to make up for all the touches he hasn't given him yet.

It's unfortunate, but eventually they have to separate for air. Tony keeps his arms tight around Peter though, not wanting to risk a moment's separation. "Love," he corrects him. "I _love_ you. And it's Tony."

The kiss is fiercer this time.

Tony is about to start ripping away clothes when Peter pulls back. His eyes are wide and his lips are kiss-bruised and open. Tony can hear him struggling for control of his own desires as he forces himself to speak. "There are some things I want, if we're going to do this right."

There are plenty of things that Tony wants too, but he gets the feeling that hearing Peter's list is more important right now. So he nods. "Go on."

"You don't get to feel bad about how young I am." Tony realizes Peter's been thinking about this. God, this brilliant boy. "I'm sixteen; it is what it is, and I love you. My life was never going to be normal, you know. So I don't want you feeling guilty about me not getting to go to prom or date kids my own age or whatever. Because I don't want that. I want you. That's number one."

"There's more?" Even the first one is a big ask, but Tony's willing to try.

"Just one. We tell Morgan the truth about us. Not any age-inappropriate details of course, but she needs to know if I'm going to your partner. I don't want to be some dirty secret she only finds out about years down the line. And I want to be a part of her life, Mr... Tony. because she's part of yours. I don't know if you'll need to work out shared custody with her biological parents now or what, but-"

Tony cut him off. "No, I won't. She's not a blip orphan, or whatever they're calling the kids who lost their parents before. It was a traditional adoption." He remembers the all-consuming loneliness when Peter died, his desperation to do something to fill the void in his life, his attorneys telling him it would be so much faster and easier to take in one of the kids who Thanos had suddenly rendered in need of new parents. But he couldn't do it. He gave as much as he could to the relief efforts to help those children, but he'd insisted on a different path for becoming a father himself. He tries to find the words to explain all that to Peter. "Because I knew, you see, that if I adopted a kid from the blip that I might have to give her back someday. I knew I'd never be able to stop trying to undo what Thanos had done. Because, no matter what, I had to get you back."

Peter lets out a long shuddering breath, "Please, _please_ say it's a deal."

Tony can't help but smile. "It's a deal."

They lurch through the darkened house towards Tony's bed, kissing and pulling at clothes as they go. At more than one point, they collide with bits of furniture and Tony is incredibly grateful that Morgan is a heavy sleeper. But they make it to the bedroom just before Peter manages to yank down Tony's pants, and then then he's falling onto the mattress, no hope at all for dignity or grace, and pulling Peter down on top of him.

He can't help but yelp in pain as his various injuries absorb the impact. Peter rolls off him, worry filling his face, and Tony's not having any of that. "Nope", he insists, pushing Peter down onto his back as he straddles him and kisses the concern away. "We're doing this."

It's a lot easier to get rid of the rest of their clothes once they're not trying to walk at the same time. Once he's finally got Peter naked, smooth and golden and glorious underneath him, Tony instantly makes it his personal quest to map out every inch of that beautiful body. He slides his hands down the planes of Peter's ribs, the tight muscles of his abdomen, the satin skin of his sides. Peter giggles at that last one, breaking the moment a little bit but making Tony smile regardless.

"You're ticklish," Tony declares. He mentally files that information away for later. "Good to know."

Peter's blushing rather gorgeously, but a bit of embarrassment clearly isn't enough to make him want to stop touching Tony back. He's gentle, obviously being mindful of Tony's wounds as his fingers skirt over scars both old and new. "You've been hurt so bad." His voice is low. "You've given so much for us."

"You don't need to see that." Tony pulls him back in for a hungry kiss. "You don't need to think about it. We're worth it."

Peter frowns a bit and pulls away from him and Tony's suddenly scared that he's going to insist that they wait until Tony's healed up a bit. But Peter just pulls something from the pocket of his abandoned jacket, and Tony feels his eyes get huge as he sees the tube of lubricant. "You _planned_ this!" He can't help but chuckle. "You clever little boy scout."

Peter blushes an even deeper shade of red than before but he returns to the bed and lays back down beside Tony anyway. "I just figured we'd wasted enough time. And... yeah... be prepared." He gives an approximation of the boy scout salute and then bites his lower lip. "I'm not really sure how you want to do this."

Tony remembers being sixteen and certain sex was just a matter of sticking it into someone and pounding away. He takes the tube and puts it on the nightstand. "We'll sort that out later. First, I want to do _this_."

He rolls Peter onto his back and kisses his neck, loving the smell and taste of him. It's amazing to think that just a few weeks ago he'd believed he might never see this kid again. He came so close to never getting to touch Peter like this, never getting to hold him. The thought is terrifying and Tony banishes it with a much more pleasant thing, kissing and licking and biting his way along Peter's torso. The kid gasps and arches off the bed when Tony closes his teeth over one of his beautiful pink nipples and so it looks like he's just as sensitive as the ticklishness suggested. Tony wonders one more time if he'd somehow been transported to a better world than his own and bites down just a little harder in order to hear that gorgeous sound again.

Tony takes his time, making his way along Peter's body. He runs his tongue down the trail of fine tawny hairs that lead from Peter's navel to his groin and then he finally finds what he wanted most to see. Peter is already swollen and hard, his cock leaking droplets of pre-come against his belly. Tony takes him in his hand and strokes him, making Peter moan and keen in ways that put the very best of Tony's extremely creative imaginings to shame. He licks at the tip of Peter's cock, taking just a moment to savor the taste, and then he opens his mouth wider, sliding Peter deeper inside. 

He's very close to lost in just the pleasure of this, feeling the weight and thickness and heat of Peter in his mouth, bringing him further and further in with every bob of his head, when Peter's voice cuts through the haze with coherent words instead of just sighs and groans. "Maybe it's time for the lube now?"

Tony has said it before, and this is the proof. The kid's a genius.

Tony's in decent shape and he's had good doctors, but he's still not healed up enough for too much strenuous movement. Which actually works out extraordinarily well, because once he's stretched Peter open with his fingers and the lube, lying flat on his back while Peter slowly lowers himself, inch by inch, onto Tony's cock is just about the only thing he ever wants to do again.

He throws his head back as Peter begins to move, forcing himself to keep his eyes open so that he can take in all the the beauty happening right above him. Peter's mouth is open in a silent scream of pleasure; it stretches into a glorious smile as he figures things out, working himself on Tony's cock and discovering all the places inside him where it can make him feel good. He keeps one hand on Tony's chest and Tony can't help but wish the skin there was just as smooth and perfect as Peter's own. He'd like to have skin worthy of being touched like Peter's touching him, gently and carefully and with something that feels like reverence. But he can't dwell on that, not with Peter to focus on. The boy's skin is flushed again but it's not embarrassment now. No, Peter is glowing with pleasure, radiating from his cheeks all the way down his chest and belly, down to his hard cock, dark and engorged in Tony's hand as he strokes and squeezes in time with Peter's rising and falling.

Peter's so tight around him that Tony can barely stand it; the muscles inside of him pull at Tony's cock with every thrust. Pleasure pools deep inside him, starting from his groin but spreading throughout him like a mirror of Peter's blushing. He feels it in his extremities, in the root of his spine, in the dead tissue of his scars. It's hot and fierce and perfect, and Tony knows it won't last long - not when he's been waiting five years and honestly even longer for it to happen. It's okay though, they'll have all the time in the world because Peter is _alive_, gloriously and perfectly alive, riding Tony hard now and looking like this was the very thing that he was brought back to life to do. Tony uses his free hard to clutch at Peter's back and rub at his thighs, loving the way that the pulse of his healthy heart makes every part of Peter so warm. And then he lets his fingers slide down so that he can feel Peter's skin stretched open where Tony's entering him. His finger traces the place where they're joined and then he can't hold back anymore. He comes deep inside of Peter, black flowers exploding inside his head and sheer sensation making him shake.

Peter's still hard, not done yet, and once the thrill of this has worn off Tony will have to remember to feel embarrassed as hell about being outlasted by a teenager. For now, he just urges Peter forward, remembering feel of him on his tongue and ready to finish him off his mouth. But Peter has other ideas. His fingers play over the very center of Tony's chest, where the scarring is the worst. 

"Can I do it here?" Peter's voice sounds wrecked and it's almost enough to make Tony hard again. "I want to see it. On you."

The kid's probably going to be sheepish as all fuck once he's calmed down enough to realize what he's asked for. Which is a shame, because Tony thinks it's one of the best ideas he's ever heard. They pull Peter's orgasm from him together - Peter's hand working frantically at his own cock while Tony uses his thumbs to massage and tease Peter's warm, stretched-out hole and the sweet spot in front of it. Peter cries out when he comes, thighs trembling around Tony, and then the noise fades into a fulfilled sigh as he sees the pearly-white drops spreading across the dark and mottled scars. He softly rubs one droplet into Tony's skin with his index finger, and it's the gentleness of the act that nearly undoes Tony. 

He pulls Peter down beside him, bringing the kid's head down to his shoulder so that he can keep his face hidden until he gets a bit more control over it. Peter nestles against him, clearly happy, but Tony still can't help but ask him. "You okay, kid?"

Peter nods, even as he's laughing. "I'm about the okayest I've ever been. But seriously - what are we going to have to do together before you'll stop calling me that?"

And Tony laughs too. "Look, I saved the whole damn world for you. I think that gives me the right to call you whatever I want." He lifts Peter's chin up so he can kiss him again. "If I want to be calling you 'kid' when you're in your fifties and pushing me around duck ponds in my wheelchair, I think that's up to me."

He expects more laughter from Peter, maybe some teasing in return. But what he gets instead is another kiss. "I've got to admit, that sounds kind of nice."

And then Tony can't joke anymore. He can't even speak, unless he wants to risk making some obscenely romantic speech that he'll die of humiliation from later. So instead, he just holds the world that he saved a little bit tighter and lets himself start planning how to fill up all the years they've won.


End file.
